


The Dragon And His General (Oh, Haven’t You Heard?)

by Insomnia_Productions



Series: The Rat Revolution (Mat/Rand Drabbles) [12]
Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Book 7: A Crown of Swords, Humor, I said I wasn't going to do a CoS drabble but I lie, M/M, POV Outsider, Perrin's quest to find out about cauthor, everyone in the palace is a cauthor stan and they all write fan fiction I dont make the rules, featuring a series of testimonials from gossipy palace staff, rumors and gossip, which he subsequently deeply regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:06:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22388410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomnia_Productions/pseuds/Insomnia_Productions
Summary: “Taking advantage of Lord Mat’s absence like that… when he and the Lord Dragon were so devoted to each other… how shameful.”Perrin has to get to the bottom of this, before he loses his mind.Or, Perrin undertakes a quest to find out just what was going on between Rand and Mat while he was gone, and decides that gossipy palace staff are the solution.
Relationships: Rand al'Thor/Mat Cauthon
Series: The Rat Revolution (Mat/Rand Drabbles) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1415056
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	The Dragon And His General (Oh, Haven’t You Heard?)

Perrin has been reunited with Rand for less than a week before the suspicious glances and dirty side-eyes from the palace staff start to trouble him. 

He sees them in the corner of his eye at all times, their hands fluttering, covering mouths, wringing aprons—Perrin feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up every time he sees that, unable to shake the feeling that it is his neck those hands are trying to wring. At first, he thinks it an expected reaction to his golden eyes and slightly-too-sharp teeth—the Light knows he gets enough of that everywhere else, too. But, if that is all, why do their mistrustful gazes not linger only on his eyes, as all the others have? Why do their scowls always grow more fierce after he has spent time talking with Rand? And why do they smell so strange?

When the palace staff glare at him, Perrin does not smell fear. Instead he smells distrust, anger, and… jealousy? Only it’s not that—not quite jealousy, not like he smells from Faile whenever Berelain comes near. It’s something slightly to the left of jealousy—like they are jealous on someone else’s behalf. 

He puzzles over it, worries over it, tries to ignore it, tries to pretend it isn’t there. He is still trying to pretend when he steps out of Rand’s chambers after yet another tense discussion and hears his name in a hushed whisper, just around the corner. Perrin’s ears twitch—or, no, they don’t do that, because he isn’t a wolf, burn it—and he struggles with his conscience, already feeling his feet bring him silently towards the source of the whisper. And he hears. 

“It’s just not right,” a young kitchenmaid is whispering, anger sharp in her voice and her scent. “Spending so much time with the Lord Dragon, in his person chambers… you can only imagine what his intentions are.” 

Perrin almost chokes, and presses a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. His marriage band is cool against his lips. What are they talking about? Him and… and  _ Rand?  _ Do they not know he’s married? 

A second voice joins the first, just as angry and twice as disapproving. “Taking advantage of Lord Mat’s absence like that… when he and the Lord Dragon were so devoted to each other… how shameful.” 

This time, Perrin can’t contain the sound that escapes his lips. He hurries away before the women can see him, but his thoughts are reeling. Rand and Mat? Rand and _Mat?_ _Rand_ and Mat? _Rand and Mat?_

Perrin has to get to the bottom of this, before he loses his mind. 

* * *

**First Testimonial**

**Semaile, 43, florist of the third floor: saw the Lord Dragon putting flowers in Lord Mat’s hair**

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Perrins says politely, ignoring the waves of suspicion rolling off the woman in front of him. She holds a small bundle of yellow flowers, and her dark brown eyes seem to pierce his soul. He clears his throat. “Listen, I know what people are saying about me and Rand, but I want you to know that none of it is true. I’m  _ married.” _ He gestures at his ring, and the woman sniffs. Perrin feels a stab of irritation. “I love my wife more than the Light, and I won’t have anyone questioning that, least of all someone who’s never spoken to me before in her life.” 

Semaile squints at him, but her expression slowly clears and she nods. “Understood, my lord. What did you want to know?”

Perrin smiles, relieved. “I heard you had a… a story about Rand and Mat?”

Semaile’s face lights up. “Oh, yes, I saw them in this very corridor!” She gestures with the flowers as she speaks, hands waving around her head. “I’m the head florist of this floor, you see, so I have control over which flowers are chosen for the Lord Dragon’s chambers, which is why I noticed them. You see, my lord, it was my flowers the Lord Dragon was using, little pink and white ones I had grown especially for his chambers, in fact I myself placed them there just that morning, and—”

“I’m sorry, but—what was Rand using them for?”

“Ah.” Semaile lowers her hands. “Yes, of course, he—well, the Lord Dragon and Lord Mat were sitting just there, on that ridge, overlooking the gardens.” She blushes slightly. “I thought they were sitting very close together… and, you see, the Lord Dragon was putting flowers—my flowers—in Lord Mat’s hair.” 

Perrin’s eyes widen, and Semaile grins at him. “Well, I couldn’t see the Lord Dragon’s face, but… Lord Mat looked very peaceful, and he wasn’t speaking at all, which I thought was unusual because he was always either complaining about something or other… or else flirting with my junior florists.” A laugh escapes her lips, and she looks almost startled by it. “Lord Mat always distracted my florists far too much, but after seeing him smile like that, I couldn’t feel angry with him.” 

“I see,” Perrin manages to say. “I… thank you for your time, Semaile. That was all I… well, you’ve been very helpful.” 

“No problem at all, my lord.” Semaile beams, gathering her flowers into her arms. “If you speak with the Lord Dragon, my lord, please tell him how honored I am. It’s not every day a king gifts your flowers to his lover.” 

“His lover,” Perrin echoes weakly, watching her walk away. 

This endeavor, he thinks, might have been a mistake. 

* * *

**Second Testimonial**

**Mavron, 21, wine server: saw the Lord Dragon and his general exchanging loaded glances during battle meetings**

“Semaile told me the rumors aren’t true, my lord,” Mavron says, the moment he sits down. “Do not worry. Everyone will understand, soon enough. And I believe you, myself.” 

“Right, well… good,” Perrin says gruffly. “You said you had a… story, too?” 

“Yes, my lord. You see, I served wine at almost every battle meeting the Lord Dragon held.” He smirks. “I am always chosen because I have a steady hand and silent feet. There is no server in this castle better equipped than myself to serve the great battle minds of our generation, my lord.” 

“I don’t doubt that, Mavron,” Perrin murmurs, thinking of Aram. He makes a mental note never to let the two men meet. “About Rand and Mat…?” 

Mavron’s smirk deepens. “You see, my lord, whenever I served during these meetings, I would always observe the same pattern. First, Lord Mat would start explaining his plans.” He lifts his chin, tone turning lofty. “They were very impressive plans, my lord. I would know. My grandfather served the crown for a great many years, my lord, and he told me—”

Perrin breaks in quickly: “Yes, yes, I’m sure he did.” He ignores Mavron’s scowl and forces a smile. “Back to Mat…?” 

Mavron gives a deep sigh, but nods his acquiescence. “Yes, well, Lord Bashere,” his eyes flick briefly to Perrin’s wedding ring, “Lord Bashere would be listening intently, focused on the maps, nodding along, but the Lord Dragon… well, more often than not, he would be gazing at Lord Mat.” His voice turns wondering. “He always had this soft, admiring look on his face. And when Lord Mat finished talking, he would notice, and then he would flush and frown and look away, but I always saw the corners of his lips moving, like he was trying not to smile. Do you see what I mean, my lord?”

“I do,” Perrin murmurs. He thinks he knows what Mavron is talking about, thinks he’s seen it himself, when they were children, and Mat would explain some convoluted idea about climbing a windmill or releasing a badger on the green, and Rand would watch him talk with a look on his face like he was watching the light dawn on the horizon. Oh, Light, maybe there really is something going on here. 

This really was a terrible idea. 

* * *

  
  


**Third Testimonial**

**Meira, 23, and Noras, 21, servants to courtiers: heard an argument between the Lord Dragon and Lord Mat**

“We heard the argument loud and clear,” Meira announces. 

“No, we didn’t,” Noras counters. “They were behind a door and their voices were muffled.” 

“They were in the  _ Lord Dragon’s chambers.  _ It was the middle of the night, just before dawn. Isn’t it something, my lord, that they were together at such a time?”

“Well,” Perrin muses, grasping at straws, “the two of you were together at that time, too.” Meria and Noras only smirk, and Perrin fights the urge to cover his face. He clears his throat. “Just tell me what you heard.” 

“Lord Mat was upset because the Lord Dragon was sending him away.” Meira looks entirely too happy for someone recounting an argument. “This was just before Lord Mat left with the Band of the Red Hand, you see. Everyone knew he didn’t want to go, but he’s their general, after all, and he has to do what the  _ Lord Dragon _ says.”

Noras gasps, appalled. “Don’t take that tone with the Lord Dragon! It wasn’t his fault! And I’m sure they were arguing because  _ Lord Mat  _ kept flirting with the tavern girls. That’s why the Lord Dragon sent him away—because he doesn’t know how to deal with negative emotions.” 

_ Well, that’s true enough, _ Perrin thinks, and interrupts before the two can start a spat of their own. “”Is there anything else you can tell me?”

Meira sucks in a breath, but Noras places a hand over her mouth and nods. “Yes. After some time, Lord Mat stormed out of the room, and we noticed that his clothes were very rumpled and almost undone, I thought, and his hair was messier than usual, and he was carrying his boots.” 

Perrin finds that he… didn’t actually want to know that. 

Meira pushes Noras’ hand away. “We hid behind a statue, so we couldn’t see his face, but I’m sure Lord Mat was crying when he left, because he was breathing very shakily.” 

Noras rolls his eyes. “Now you’re just stretching it.” 

“It’s true!” 

“Thank you for your time!” Perrin says loudly, and walks away. 

_ Such _ a bad idea. 

* * *

There’s more. Lyra, handmaiden to a lady of the court, saw the general lounging in the Lord Dragon’s throne, and when the Lord Dragon arrived, he only laughed and asked him to move over and make some space. Kieron, gardener of the eastern flower beds, witnessed them dancing together in the throne room without any music. Calian, Westlander by blood but, allegedly, Aiel by soul, once watched a sparring match between them that she believes came this close to ending in a kiss. The stories are endless—everyone in the castle seems to think Rand and Mat loved each other, and the only divergence of opinion is on whether they still do. And with each new voice leaping into the mix, Perrin is beginning to think these stories might just be true. 

There’s only one thing for it. He goes to Rand. 

* * *

“Rand?”

“Yes?” He’s distracted, reading, fingers thumbing the worn pages of  _ Jain Farstrider. _ Perrin thinks he’s had that book since they were in the Stone. 

“I… Rand, before I arrived… well, I keep hearing… I just wondered if…” 

“What?” He has stopped thumbing the pages, but Perrin can’t tell if he’s really listening. 

“I just wondered if you and Mat were… were… well, if you were…” 

Suddenly, Perrin notices the small smirk growing on Rand’s lips, and feels his face flush. The man is just as bad as Mat! Or perhaps Mat is just that bad an influence. Perrin throws up his hands. 

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about, Rand!” 

Rand closes his book and stands, laughing softly. “Yes, Perrin, Mat and I  _ were.” _ He pauses. “Or, rather,  _ are.”  _

“Oh,” Perrin says dumbly. “Oh.” Curiosity piques. “Since when?”

“Oh, since…” Rand looks up, lips moving silently. “Since… Bel Tine four years ago, I think?” 

“What?!” Perrin squeaks, and then clamps a hand over his mouth.

Rand only laughs. “I’m sorry, really, I am. We’d have told you, but, well, we weren’t sure how.” He flushes slightly, and that, at least, seems to kill his laughter. “Besides, it was… a little bit fun, I think, being all secretive about it.” 

Perrin rolls his eyes, and his gaze falls on the window. Outside, he can see two white banners, one featuring a golden dragon, the other a red hand. He frowns. “Do you love him?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then… why did you send him away?”

He smells the shame from Rand before he sees it on his face. “I need Elayne back in Caemlyn before it crumbles under my hands. I need the rebel Aes Sedai on my side. And I need Sammael’s eyes away from here while I decide what to do next. Mat is… he’s the only one I trust to handle all of it.” 

His voice is cold as he speaks, the practiced, royal tone he uses in court, all stoic composure and regal righteousness, but he smells of fear and regret and anger and heartbreak, and Perrin suddenly feels very sad for his childhood friend. 

“He’ll be okay,” Perrin says, and the words feel hollow. “He’ll come back to you.” 

“I know,” Rand murmurs, and then grins, smelling of pain and hope. He reaches into his pocket and holds out his hand for Perrin to look. 

Perrin looks. 

On Rand’s palm rests a silver band. Perrin feels the near-identical golden one around his own finger burn as he stares at it. 

“He has to come back,” Rand says, “so I can give him this.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the meme but then I made it sad :(
> 
> //
> 
> MY MOCK EXAMS ARE OVER WHOOP 
> 
> I said I wasn't going to write a drabble for CoS after the horrible experience of writing the Tylin Thing analysis, but this idea called to me at 1am, and here we are. 
> 
> Hey, thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, and you like cauthor, come chat with me on Tumblr @insomnia-productions!


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